Mama Told Me Never To Talk To Strangers
by imthekeptainnow
Summary: "Leaving the man out here would surely mean his death and he, at the very least, couldn't allow that on his conscience." McCoy is homeless and Chekov offers him a room in the winter and then feelings happen. AU. McChekov. Spirk appears at the end of the story.


**Disclaimer:**** All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.**

_Written for ensign-chekov on tumblr, and beta'd by WithinHerHeart_

* * *

Pavel saw him every day on his way to work, on his way to the high street and on his way home again. He was always in the same place, day after day. He first appeared in the early summer, just when everything was staring to heat up. Pavel knew the man was older than him, although probably a lot younger than he actually looked in the state he was in, all dirt ridden and scruffy and tired. His clothes seemed nice enough, different from usual homeless people anyway, but they were never changed and eventually, holes wore into the fabric.

Pavel himself had never considered reaching out to help him more than offering the man a few coins if he had any. In the end, he wasn't sure what had him approach the stranger. Maybe it was because he felt sorry for him. Maybe it was because the snow, the blistering blow of wind, was sinking into his own bones through the thickness of his coat, let alone how it must feel to this man whose layers were hardly functioning.

He saw the man shaking in front of him, rubbing his hands together, dragging a worn blanket up his chest and staring forlornly across the white layer that now covered the earth and he had to do something. Leaving the man out here would surely mean his death and he, at the very least, couldn't allow that on his conscience.

"Uh, excuse me, sir?" Pavel called out as he approached.

The man jerked and spun around to face him. "What?" he snapped coltishly.

"Vhat is your name?" Chekov inquired.

"Why is that any of your business?" the man snapped back.

Pavel conceded, although he was a little shocked at the hostility of the man to a person he hadn't even spoken to. Although, he guessed, he could understand. He doubted that he would be cheery after sitting out in the cold all day. He moved on, recovering quickly. "Uh, do you have anywhere to go tonight?"

The man watched him closely, considering what to say next. Chekov did a little jog on the spot in an attempt to stay warm.

"No," the man answered finally.

"Do you vant one?"

* * *

The man, who still hadn't given his name, Pavel thought, now stood in his living room. It was the room that the stranger had been bustled into to, and Pavel had moved into the kitchen, announcing that he'd get the man a hot drink. He made a lot of noise as he clanged around, and though he tried not to, his eyes kept sliding back to the man across the hall.

He hadn't moved. He was just standing there, perfectly still. It made Pavel a little nervous, he would admit. Already his mind was whirling with all kinds of scenarios – bad, bad scenarios – that ended with him robbed, maimed, dead. His mama had warned him so many times to not talk to strangers and what did he do?– _he invited one into his home._ Chekov sighed and ran a hand over his face. He did the right thing, he told himself. That man out there, he would have died in the cold. It's just for one night anyway.

It'll be fine.

His eyes were closed when Pavel entered the room, cups held carefully in his hand. The man…he looked so relaxed there. So much more worn out and older than he had ever looked before. Pavel couldn't tear his eyes away, his lips parted slightly and he just…watched.

But then the man opened his eyes, and the vulnerability that had been there before dispirited away and was replaced by something a little harder, a battle scarred mask.

Pavel knew he was blushing when he adverted his gaze. He held out one of the cups to the man in offering and cleared his throat. "Here, you should, um, you should drink. It'll help shake off the cold."

He felt the coarse fingertips brush against his when the man plucked the mug from his hand. Pavel chanced a look back and watched the man tip his head back and gulp at his drink.

"It's been a long time since you had one of them right?" he commented with an uncertain smile.

The man stilled and looked at the younger man with a guarded expression. "Yes, you could say it's been a long time," he mocked, "There's not exactly copious supplies of hot tea on the street."

Chekov flinched a little and ducked his head, sipping his drink. "Yes…yes, I suppose so. It vas a stupid question."

"Yeah, I suppose so," the man shot back, "Can I ask you a question?"

"Ah, of course."

"Didn't your mother ever teach you not to bring strangers home with you?"

"Would you rather I had left you out there?" Pavel challenged, "You could have died out there. At least here, you'll get a bed and some shelter from the snow."

"And then you get to continue with the rest of your little life, with a good feeling that you helped out the poor helpless man who can't hold his fucking life together," he added bitterly. "Listen kid, I don't need your fucking pity-"

"But vhat about help?" Pavel snapped, frustrated, "Because that is vhat I'm offering. If you don't want it, then you can leave."

The man watched him in silence and Chekov flushed a little, embarrassed.

"Sorry…" he muttered.

The man let out a sharp laugh. "Help, pity, it's all the same thing. But just because I don't want it doesn't mean I don't need it. So, ah, thanks, I guess."

Pavel blinked in surprise. "Y-yes, yes, y-you're welcome," he nodded firmly, "Uh, you finish that," he gestured to the drink, "and I vill go and sort out my spare room for you. It's not the varmest room in the house, but I can get extra sheets and, uh, a new change of clothes vill probably be good."

He didn't get a reply so he just smiled awkwardly, nodded slightly and said that he could sit down if he wanted to before turning and making to head upstairs.

"Bones."

Pavel stopped, the list that had been forming in his head disappearing as he turned hesitantly to face the man. "Um, excuse me?"

"Bones. Call me Bones."

* * *

It was only supposed to be one night. But one night easily became two. And two nights became a week and a week became a month and then it was like Chekov had himself a permanent roommate.

Pavel realised he'd started to buy Bones' clothes when he went shopping – jerseys and hoodies and t-shirts, jeans and jogging bottoms and a couple of pairs of trainers.

He'd started buying food specifically for Bones every week – sausages and gammon steaks and potato chips, and bottles of whiskey and excessive amount of teabags.

He recorded shows that Bones liked on the TiVo and would sit down and watch the medical shows he'd always hated, just because Bones would always complain loudly and animatedly about all the inaccuracies.

And Pavel knew him well now. It had taken him at least week for Bones to open up with the slightest little thing about himself, and that was that he liked his steaks well-done. From there, it was like he dropped random pieces of information in conversations, stuff that Pavel would take and put away in the "Mystery of Bones" folder in his brain.

He took his coffee black. He hated Baby Ruth's more than it was thought possible. His favourite colour was blue. His best friend was called Jim, but he was out of the country. He was born in Georgia, USA. His favourite comedian was Chris Rock. He preferred jogging bottoms to jeans. He was addicted to salted caramel ice cream. He could fall asleep anywhere if he was tired – on the floor, on the table, on the sofa and one memorable moment when Pavel found him asleep half into the shower. When he was bored, he'd hum the song Backwards by Rascal Flatts. He was a pretty decent cook. And, perhaps the most surprising, that he was a doctor.

"A doctor?" Pavel had repeated startled.

Bones grinned sideways. "Yeah, paediatrics actually."

"You were a child's doctor?" he found himself smiling in return.

"Yeah, and a damn good one if I do say so myself."

"So why aren't you working at a hospital now?" Pavel tilted his head.

Bones frowned at the question and glanced back to the television screen. Chekov began to stumble through an apology, angry at himself for asking for something that was clearly so personal and he had just ruined weeks of closeness by one stupidly ill-timed question and-

"I was fired," he responded suddenly making Pavel go quiet.

"Fired…wha…what happened?" he asked uncertainly.

Bones cleared his throat loudly and took a long swig from the bottle of whiskey he kept cradled into his hands. "I suppose you could say it started when my marriage broke down," he replied bitterly, "Bitch was having an affair and I only found out when I was served the divorce papers. I thought…I _stupidly_ thought that we were okay and she…" he paused for a minute, shaking his head, "It got rough. I lost the house, my family, turned to drink, lost my job and well, I ended up where you found me."

Honestly, Pavel wasn't sure how he was supposed to respond, what he was supposed to do. Well, he knew that he was going to cut back on the amount of alcohol he was buying, because the last thing he was going to do was contribute to the ruining of the man across from him. Other than that, there was just what he felt he should do. He felt this overwhelming urge to reach out and touch and hold and comfort because he'd never seen Bones look so sad, so frustrated and anger with himself and just...he had to do something. Anything. He just…he wanted to make it better. But if there was one thing he wasn't going to do, it was tell Bones any of this.

"She made a mistake," he said lowly.

Bones turned to look at him, eyebrow raised.

Pavel shifted in his seat and tugged his sleeves down over his arm. "She made a mistake," he repeated, "I can't see any reason vhy that vomen vouldn't have vanted you a-and I think she's stupid for giving you up."

Bones just stared at him, and that might have been the first time that Chekov saw genuine shock on his face. Pavel blushed and rubbed his cheeks with his covered hand.

"You…you really think that huh?" the older man finally croaked out.

Pavel reluctantly met Bones' gaze. "Y-yes, that vould be vhy I said it."

Bones nodded absentmindedly. "Right…thanks…I guess."

"Anytime…Doctor."

* * *

The thing was, Chekov thought he actually enjoyed having Bones around the house. He'd been living alone since he was in college, which was a lot longer than it seemed. He had started early, at the age of fourteen, the "Russian whizz kid". His mama and papa had been worried about him living in some fraternity house with a bunch of drunk boys five years his senior and had sorted it out with the accommodation office for him to have his own apartment on campus. It had been nice, different, although it hadn't given him the taste of college life that he was too young to understand at the time but now wished he could have experienced. He liked having the company.

Okay, so it wasn't just having company. He liked Bones. A lot. Probably a lot more than he actually should. And he wasn't sure how he was supposed to deal with that.

"I mean," He explained, "I've never really liked anyone before now."

Hikaru Sulu, his best friend and co-worker at the university, hummed in agreement. "You have a point. I was beginning to wonder what your deal was. Or even if you had a deal at all really."

Pavel tilted his head in confusion. "My deal? Vhat kind of deal?"

"You know, women, men, sock puppets," Hikaru shrugged and grinned at his own joke.

Chekov rolled his eyes. "This is serious Hikaru. Vhat should I do?"

His friend sighed and leant forward to rest his elbows on his knees. "What you need to do is grab your handsome not-so-homeless man and tell him that you have 256 bones in your body and would like him to give you another one."

He flushed darkly at the thought. "Hikaru! I can't just…that doesn't…he vouldn't…"

Hikaru laughed, completely unaffected by the dark glare the Russian shot him. "It's just a suggestion," he defended without malice.

"A horrible suggestion," Pavel pouted.

"Okay, before you go all puppy dog eyes on me, you should start simple. Like letting him that you like him. Or, maybe, let him know that you want him around. Let him decorate his own room or get a sign or something."

Which is what lead Chekov to where he was now. Hikaru was right. He needed to start simple. To tell Bones that he was wanted. Bones was watching a football game now and Pavel hovered outside the living room, trying to get up the confidence to just go in and just _say_ the words that he'd been rehearsing for an hour now.

He muttered the words twice more under his breath before he stepped into the living room and said loudly, "Ve should take a drive down to the home vares store."

Bones hummed in acknowledgement although he didn't take his eyes off the screen. "What for?"

"Paint. I think you should get a choice of vhat you vant your room to look like, yes?"

He was looking at Pavel now, shocked and surprised, and the younger man smiled as confidently as he could manage despite the whirling of panic and worry in his stomach.

"My room?"

"Yeah…if you vant it to be…"

Bones turned off the game and stood up, stretching and clicking his back and Pavel eyed the revealed skin of his stomach involuntarily with greedy eyes. He forced his eyes upwards when the luscious flesh disappeared beneath a cotton shirt.

"I think I'll go with blue, since it's your favourite colour, maybe with vhite," the man mused.

Pavel grinned in relief. "It certainly vill suit you a lot better than the gold."

"Yes, that's far more your colour," Bones commented, eying the gold fabric of his shirt.

Chekov tried not to shiver.

* * *

They had painted the spare room together, laughing and joking and playing. Pavel thought maybe Bones was watching him as much as Bones was being watched, and that gave him hope, although neither of them ever said anything. They conversed about everything, Bones even letting Pavel sit him down and explain the theory of quantum mechanics (his field of study at the university) which no one outside his students ever allowed him to do. Bones had admitted to feeling bad about using Pavel's hospitality and was thinking of applying for a job at the Sacred Heart. Chekov encouraged him.

It was good, Pavel thought.

Until there was the phone call.

Bones had recently tried to get back in contact with his ex-wife because he, apparently, something that hadn't been mentioned before, had a daughter that he hadn't been able to see for months. He was mostly sober now, had a home; had applied for a job. He thought it was high time he started to continue his responsibilities as a father. It wasn't fair for Joanna to suffer, he argued, but apparently the ex-Mrs Bones didn't agree with that.

Pavel sat awkwardly at one of the kitchen's chairs and his eyes followed Bones' aggravated pacing across the tiled floor. He hadn't really wanted to be there, it was a private conversation after all, but something told him that Bones had needed the support at the beginning, although he'd never admit it; support to speak to the women he had loved, had married and had been betrayed by. Bones had shot him a small smile when he first picked up the phone, a show that he was hoping for some kind of rational conversation. It clearly wasn't what he was getting.

His expression was set, hard and angry; his voice gruff and loud when he shouted down the phone. His hands would clench into fists and he'd grit his teeth in the periods where he didn't say anything.

"Jocelyn, you can't keep her from me," Bones snapped angrily, "She's my daughter. I have every right to be there for her…I made a mistake being away for so long…yes, I know I…hey, don't argue promises to me, you made a promise on our wedding day to – yes, I'm going to bring that up! You took everything from me and I couldn't cope with being anything, let alone a father, but I'm stable now, it's better and I want to…but Yves isn't her father, I am! You can't do this Jocelyn, I…yes, if I have to take it to court I will... well, fuck you too." He hung up the phone abruptly and let out a frustrated huff, running a hand over his face.

Pavel watched as Bones dropped the phone onto the counter and did his little irritated half pace, before heading towards the fridge. His hand grabbed at the bottle of bourbon and Pavel's stomach dropped. He'd been doing so well with the not drinking as much thing, although Pavel was sure he had something to do with it since the cut down of alcohol after the first time it was brought up. Bones was bound to have noticed, although he hadn't mentioned it, and Pavel had thought he was making an effort to change. He meant, he hadn't touched a bottle in two days, and that was a new record.

Maybe it was the idea of Bones falling back into that cycle, which had Chekov standing up and making a grab for the bottle. Bones had a noise of objection and his eyebrows furrowed angrily.

"Leave me alone," he growled out, trying to dodge the flailing limps.

Pavel was persistent. "No. I cannot let you do zat. Not because of her." He let out a triumphant noise when he got the bottle, avoided Bones' hands when he tried to take it back and made his way over to the sink. He watched the liquid flowing away down the drain and was thankful for its departure. Unfortunately, Bones wasn't as happy.

Pavel felt the body weight push against him roughly, trying to jerk him away and his grip on the bottle laxed. The glass clanged against the sink and Pavel made a noise of objection. Bones' hands tightened on his forearms and spun him around roughly.

"Why did you do that?" he demanded.

"You can't drink! It only means you're going back to how you used to be," Pavel defended himself, trying to struggle against the hold.

If anything, it got tighter. "How I used to be?" he parroted, "And what I'm so much fucking better now? Listen up, kid, I'm not some broken toy for you to fix. I don't want to be fixed. I want to get drunk and angry and sleep my life away. And what are you going to fucking do about it?"

"You're better than that."

"You think so? You've only known me for a few weeks, you think that's enough for you to say you know what's fucking best for me? I'm just your stupid charity case, and you're…you're nothing to me, okay? Nothing."

They were words said in anger, in frustration, Pavel knew. Bones didn't mean any of them, at least, that's what he hoped, and besides, Pavel wasn't a person to allow other people's opinions of him to make a difference in what he thought or felt. So why did this hurt so much? He swallowed around a lump in his throat and tried to wiggle out of the grip.

"Let go of me," he muttered quietly.

Bones locked his jaw. "No."

Pavel met his gaze and glared darkly. "Let go of me," he said again.

The hands on him seemed to squeeze tighter. "No," Bones repeated.

Chekov wasn't weak, he wasn't helpless and he certainly wasn't going to let himself get bullied in his own home. He gritted his teeth and, raising his leg, he kicked upwards, aiming at the obvious weak spot. The man grunted in surprise, and his grip relaxed enough for Pavel to shrug off the hands. He shoved Bones' backwards roughly, stumbling backwards himself.

He rubbed at his arms absentmindedly and a quick glance down meant he could see the red marks rising on his pale skin, but he didn't waste too much time looking. He was too busy watching Bones. The man was grumpy and got angry quickly, but he'd never been this aggressive before. And staring at him now, he didn't seem like the same person as he had been just moments before. All the irritation and anger and hate had just drained away and left someone who looked as if he couldn't believe what had just happened. He looked horrified, disgusted, sickened; angry with himself.

"I hurt you," Bones said, his voice emotionless.

"Yes," Pavel responded simply, because how could he lie when the evidence was right there?

"I'm…fuck, I'm so sorry," his voice became choked with disbelief and horror, which he quickly covered up. "I'm…just…" he left the kitchen quickly and Pavel stepped closer a little timidly to watch as he pushed his feet into his trainers and grabbed his coat from the hanger.

Bones opened the front door and hesitating, he glanced back at Pavel, watched him with eyes that seemed clouded with just everything, too much, before he finally stepped out and closed the door behind him. Chekov shivered and drew his arms closer to his chest to keep away the cold, although he suspected that had nothing to do with the wind that gusted in.

* * *

Bones disappeared for three days before Pavel got really worried.

"Why?" Hikaru sighed out in frustration. "The guy is a bastard, he hurt you and you're still worried about him. What's so special about Bones?"

Chekov went silent for a moment as he tried to think of how to explain everything to someone else. "It's…it's complicated, I think. Bones…he's a mystery. He's doesn't share much and he's dis bitter and angry man who has spent so long turning to alcohol for help, that he doesn't know how to cope vithout it. But then he becomes this…vonderful men who cares in his own grumpy way and makes strange analogies that I don't fully understand, and vants to be a father and vants to move on, but can't a-and I vant to be the person he moves on to."

Hikaru wrinkled his nose. "Urgh, how did I know you were going to be into that romantic crap?" he shook his head, "But that doesn't change that he hurt you Pavel. You can't let him back in, only to have him do it again."

"I vill give him an ultimatum," Pavel offered, "He vill get himself sorted out or he vill have to leave. I have to give him that choice right? I feel that if I let him go, I'll regret it."

Hikaru stared at him considering for a moment. When he spoke, his voice was low, open. "You really care about this dick don't you?"

Pavel nodded without hesitation.

Hikaru huffed and let out a groan. "Urgh, fine. The things I do for you." He stood up, shrugging on his coat and wrapping his scarf around his neck, "But if he hurts you again, I'm hunting him down okay?"

"Ah, yes," Chekov stammered, scrambling to his feet, "V-vhere are we going?"

"To find the arsehole," his friend shouted over his shoulder. Pavel hurried after him.

* * *

It was Hikaru that found Bones, in the small park about three blocks from Pavel's house. He had been on the other side of town and when he'd gotten the call, he'd rushed as fast as possible. Pavel's cheeks were flushed pink and he was panting a little from exertion when he finally approached the two, who were sitting on a bench. Bones didn't look at him when he approached, but Hikaru glanced towards him and stood up, adjusting his scarf.

"Thank god," he muttered the curse, "Maybe you can convince Mr Drinksalot to get his arse into gear." Hikaru clapped Pavel on the shoulder encouragingly, "And don't worry, I've already done my best friend speech, so I don't have to wait around to listen to you two getting mushy with each other. Go get him tiger."

Pavel's expression was horrified, his mind crying out in panic at the thought of what exactly Hikaru had said to the man, and he blushed at the implications behind the words, but didn't let his gaze waver from Bones. It was like, if he did, it gave the man the chance to make his escape and Pavel wasn't up for the run it would take to get him back.

There was an awkward silence between the two; Pavel, who desperately wanted to say everything and anything at once, and Bones, who was stubbornly quiet, not wanting to be the one to speak first, yet wanting to ask how the younger man had been.

Surprisingly, in the end, it was Bones that spoke first.

"Are you okay?" he asked and his voice seemed to be a battle of emotions that he couldn't quite contain.

"I'm fine, really," Pavel answered quickly, smiling in what he hoped was a reassuring manner, "No lasting damage right?"

Bones winced and didn't reply, making Pavel's smile drop automatically and concern filled him again. He shifted his weight from foot to foot, glancing to the ground uncertainly until he regained the courage to speak once more.

"Vhere…vhere have you been?" he asked quietly.

"The hostel," Bones answered shortly.

"Oh, right, are you, um, staying there tonight?"

"No beds."

"Well, there's still one bed that's empty, if you still want it," Pavel commented awkwardly and Bones turned to look at him with a ludicrous expression.

"Kid, I think there might be something wrong with you," he stated.

Chekov flushed a little frustrated. "It vas just an offer."

"Exactly!" Bones exclaimed, "Why would you even think to ask me back? I hurt you Pavel and just…" he pinched the bridge of his nose.

"I asked you back because I know you didn't mean to do it. That it vas an accident because you were angry," Pavel shifted awkwardly, "But that doesn't mean I think you should sleep out on the streets tonight."

"And what if it happens again?" Bones snapped back.

"Vill it?"

The man didn't answer straight away, just averted his gaze, which told Pavel all he wanted to know. He took a hesitant step closer and Bones looked at him from the corner of his eye.

"Because I don't think it vill," Pavel continued, "And that you deserve a second chance; to try again."

"There's only so many times you can try."

"So ve'll just have to make this time count, yes?"

Bones turned to face him properly this time. He looked astonished for a moment before his lips twisted into a soured smile, and shook his head. "You are something else kid."

Pavel flushed and his cheeks puffed out. "Vhat is that supposed to mean?"

"It means that I've never met someone like you before. You're what, 24 and you're invited a drunken bum into your home and even after everything, you still want me there. I mean, I'd call you an idiot if I hadn't seen your work so I'll just so with naïve. That's the only explanation as to why you think I'm worth anything. No one else thinks so."

"Can't it just be enough that I do?" Pavel retorted. Bones didn't reply and he shook his head, taking a few steps back. "My offer still stands. Just decide whether you vant to take it."

He turned and walked away. He could feel Bones' eyes on him, making him feel self-conscious and nervous, but he ignored it. He ignored the urge to turn around, he ignored the thought that Bones may not return home and he moved forward.

He'd tried and there wasn't much else he could do now but wait.

* * *

Pavel had been watching Grey's Anatomy and the knock on the door had his heart lurching hopefully in his chest. He wasn't disappointed. Bones stood like an imposing presence on the front step, his expression blank and his hands buried in his coat pockets. Pavel swallowed nervously and opened the door wider, letting the man step in.

Bones didn't say anything as he walked upstairs to the room that he had claimed as his own, Pavel in front. He seemed to survey the room before his attention went back to Pavel, who gestured to the bed.

"I, uh, vashed the sheets but I haven't had time to make the bed-"he started only to be interrupted.

"What do you see in me?" Bones questioned.

"Eh?" Chekov blinked.

"What do you see in me? Why do you think I'm worthy of…you?"

"…Because you've had it hard recently and you still care," Pavel responded honestly, refusing to meet Bones' gaze, "You're very smart and you listen, and…because you don't think you deserve it."

Pavel didn't hear Bones move until his shoes came into his line of vision. Pavel jerked his head up and stared wide-eyed at Bones, who was close, too close, not close enough. He swallowed and licked his lips.

"B-bones?" he said unsurely.

"Leonard. Call me Leonard."

Pavel nodded eagerly, because Bones was trusting him, trusting him enough to give his first name. He could feel the intensity of the meaning behind this revealed information but he was too afraid to let himself delve too deeply. "Okay…Leonard, vhat-?"

"If I kissed you right now, would you kick me again?" Bones – Leonard, he mentally corrected – inquired softly, and Pavel, startled to silence, shook his head in answer, suddenly breathless.

He heard the low muttering of "right", a moment before Leonard's hands moved to rest on Pavel's hips, drawing him closer awkwardly. Leonard watched him for a moment, eyes scanning over his face, as if searching for any sign of disgust for the advance, before finally, pressing their lips together.

Pavel whimpered lowly, lips falling apart and his hands, which had been hanging uselessly at his side, reached up to grip the collar of his shirt. He let himself fall completely into the kiss, something he had been waiting for so long to happen. Leonard's stubble rubbed and burned at his cheeks in the best way possible, and his hands flexed at Pavel's hips and it was just _amazing_.

They parted reluctantly and Bones lifted one hand to rub at the red marks on Pavel's cheek.

"Sorry," he muttered.

"Don't, I liked it. All of it," Pavel assured, "Um, can we do it again soon?"

Leonard grinned. "As soon as you want and just as much."

* * *

_**Eight months later**_

"Daddy, can I help with the BBQ?" Joanna inquired, pulling her best puppy dog look that she knew was guaranteed to make her father do as she wanted.

Leonard glanced at her from over the grill and laughed a little. "Sure you can baby, come here," he gestured her closer, and crouched down her level. Joanna listened intensely to the instructions with a serious expression, way too much like her father's, nodding every once and a while in understanding. She beamed when she finally reached for the thongs and her tongue stuck out in concentration as she flipped a burger under her father's guide.

Pavel watched the interactions with a smile, only tearing his gaze away when Jim tapped him on the shoulder. The man had come back a few months ago, engaged and had been a frequent visitor in Pavel's home.

"I would never see Bones as the fatherly type until you actually see him with his daughter," he mused.

Pavel nodded his agreement. "Yes, it's wonderful, don't you think?"

"Daddy McCoy gives you the hots, uh, Chekov?" Jim teased, eyes sparkling mischeviously, and the younger man flushed and spluttered out some kind of objection.

A hand settled on Jim's shoulder, making him turn. Spock, which Pavel can't believe is his real name, quirked an eyebrow at his fiancée. "James, perhaps you could refrain from teasing Pavel, since we're guests in his home."

"Ah, you're no fun Spock," Jim mock pouted, but stopped the topic, turning so he is back was pressed against his partner's front.

"Foods up," Leonard called, carefully placing a tray of burgers into Joanna's eager hands, and she carried it over to the main table.

"Urgh, finally, I'm starved," Hikaru commented, dropping into his seat and automatically reaching for a burger. He grinned at Joanna, "Thanks little McCoy."

Joanna flushed and smiled shyly. Pavel thought it was sweet that the eight year old had a crush on his friend, however much Leonard didn't.

"Pavel, can you help me?" she asked him politely.

He grinned, reaching for the burger buns and cutting one in half. "Of course ангел."

Leonard dropped into the seat beside his daughter and smiled at Pavel. He was glad that two of the most important people in his life were getting along and, what's more, that they enjoyed each other's company. It made it easier for him to see his daughter when Joanna insisted upon the visits.

Pavel glanced at him and smiled in return. "Vhat?" he inquired softly.

"Nothing," Leonard shook his head.

"Oh, Bones is getting all sentimental," Jim joked.

"Ah, shut it," Leonard threw a napkin his direction. He glanced at Spock. "I have no idea how you put up with him."

"Hmm, I believe I should ask you the same question," Spock replied with a small smile.

"Hey!" Jim defended, "I'm a joy."

"If that makes you feel better Uncle Jim," Joanna interrupted, making the rest of the table laugh and Jim gap like a startled fish.

"She's definitely your daughter," Pavel mused at Leonard.

"Yup, through and through," Leonard ruffled her hair.

Joanna grinned sheepishly.

* * *

**Originally posted on .com. If you have any prompts, please leave them there or on my writing blog (linked on main blog).**


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